


What if the Elves were Evil and the Orcs good?!

by mdaoust245



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Lord of the Rings, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, LOTR, Lots of OCs - Freeform, M/M, Other, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies), Post-Lord of the Rings, The Lord of the Rings References, badass woman, evil powerful woman, female oc - Freeform, im not a middle earth historian, inspired by instagram, melkor made me do it, orcs are good, what if the elves are evil, wherein i make up lots of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdaoust245/pseuds/mdaoust245
Summary: Someone posted on instagram 'what if the elves were evil and the orcs good' or something like that. Well, wait no more! For I, ingenious writer of extraordinary tales, have the answer to that! Read on, dear victim, and be-fuckin'-hold! I've written the follow up to the LOTR, wherein the orcs are good and (you guessed it!) the elves are evil. Sort of. Just read it. There will hopefully be copious amounts of smut once I get around to it.





	What if the Elves were Evil and the Orcs good?!

**Author's Note:**

> For those who haven't studied ancient hebrew (which I guess is most of the population, haha), Mal'ach means 'salt' and Laila means 'darkness'. Consider Mal'ach like a purifying force in the darkness. Because she's badass and powerful, and, well, salty? I dunno. I like her.  
> Also I've barely described the characters, because neither did Tolkien and if he can be lazy about it, so can I haha. On a more serious note, I really prefer to leave readers with their own impressions sometimes.

“Long have our people slumbered, lain prostrate, been humiliated, but no more! No, we will no longer be the downcast children of some useless gods! We will rise above! No longer will we lie in the filth, groveling for scraps they would rather feed to the dogs! No-together we shall arise!”  
And so spoke the majestic one. The one with spikes atop their head, a freshly forged crown that they had claimed for themselves.  
The orcs cheered. The uruk-hai clamored and banged their sword on their shields. A nazgul tossed its head and shrieked.  
The dark forces were seized with hope, with a fervor they had not sensed since nearly fifteen years ago, when their world came crumbling down about their ears.  
But now, the dark one had arisen. No foul human here to lead them astray, no weak one without a body. No. This was Mel'ach, and she was here to raise her people from the pit of despair.  
She raised her arms, the darkness dripping from her sleeves and the power in her hands glowing orange golden like the fire in a balrog's eye. As she brought her hands up above her head, the golden light shot up, dazzling the sky in the shape of a star.  
“War!” she cried out as the new star shone above them in the bleak night.  
“War!” screamed the orcs.

A war which began by little steps in this case.  
A map was unrolled in a war-room. A handful of orcs shuffled around the table, peering closely at the quaint scribbles.  
A daintily gloved finger pointed at the valley. “Go there,” Mel'ach ordered. “And bring me the first elf you lay eyes upon.”  
“The first?” Asked the uruk-hai, not daring to raise his eyes to the terrible figure that he stood beside.  
Mel'ach nodded. Her magics had seen true. The first would be a prince, full of light and beloved of his people. A perfect hostage.  
“The first,” she ordered darkly, her voice a shrill snarl.  
“Yes my Queen,” the uruk-hai said swiftly, bowing as fast as he could without knocking his head on the table. 

They departed that very night, rushing forth on stolen horses whipped into a frenzy. And, as Mel'ach's magics would have it, a procession was leaving into the valley that very same day. It was a procession of elves who were visiting from beyond the seas. They bore with them Tailleach, Thranduil's grandson. A youth blooming freshly into adulthood, on his first journey on these earths.  
A perfect victim.  
Indeed, “He's beautiful,” sighed an orc while looking through his spyglass at the procession the very next day.  
The uruk-hai who smacked the orc on the back of the head warrants an introduction. He was strong, brave, and fiercely loyal to his new Queen, for she had personally aided him to feed his children during the disparate times after the war. Many a family she had saved, hunting alone on a nazgul to bring back boars and great wyrms to be feasted upon. Laila, as his name was, owed her his life and that of his children.  
Today, Laila was determined to fulfill his Queen's wishes. He would capture for her the first elf he saw at the procession, and bring him home as hostage. The rest of those beautiful monsters were to be slain.  
“But just look at them!” gloated one orc to the other, passing the spyglass over.  
Laila rolled his eyes. “Shut up, or they're going to hear us!” he hissed.  
The orcs snivelled and whined, but then were silent. Instead, hunkered down as they were behind the hills, they contented themselves with passing their spy-glass and licking their lips.  
For it wasn't for lack of a desire for beauty that the orcs were ugly. They merely were cursed. The sight of these elves however, so graceful and lithe, with hair a-flowin' in the wind, made them all have … feelings.  
“I want the one in the blue dress,” sniggered one orc.  
“Ooo I want the silver one!” another orc echoed.  
Laila hushed them. They had to wait until the elves were a little closer before they launched their ambush. Just a little more...  
“Get ready,” muttered Laila, drawing his sword. The spyglass was pocketed. The orcs licked their lips and watched the elves even closer. Then, like an error in the wind, there was a creaking of a bow being drawn.  
Laila spun, but there was nothing to be done. They had been ambushed. Arrows hailed down, the cries of his people bursting out as they were mercilessly pierced.  
An arrow pierced Laila's thigh, another his shoulder. He staggered, mind drawing a horrified pitch darkness.  
For there, before him, were not elves but humans on horseback who had certainly been riding out to greet the elves.  
Humans that were snottily riding up now that the orcs were wounded. Stubborn, Laila stayed on his feet as best he could. His mind was reeling at the sudden turn of events, but he would not go down without a fight.  
“Well what have we here?” sneered the first human, a male who had a big sword to prove a point.  
Laila spat and snarled, wishing he could defend his kinsmen who lay groaning on the ground, helpless. Yet as the rest of the riders arrived he knew the best he could wish for them would be a swift death.  
“What is this?” cried out another voice. A younger, fairer voice that wasn't leering, but rather dismayed.  
Laila turned again, and the elves were arriving. At their head was the fresh youth, long blond hair swinging down to his hips, a dismayed guardian riding at his side.  
“Orcs!” bragged the human. Then, prodding Laila with the end of his sword he continued. “And one uruk-hai!”  
“I can see that,” snapped the youth, obviously agitated. His eyes flickered over the carnage. “But why-?”  
“They were going to attack you, prince,” said the human braggishly, obviously intending a silent 'and I saved the day!' sort of schpiel.  
But Tailleach kept frowning, his eyes scouring the mess. Then he looked at Laila.  
Ah, what large eyes. Such blue, much depth, or something like that. Laila snarled, not in the mood to be seduced by vain beauty. One from the dark lands knew better than to trust beauty!  
“What are they doing all the way out here?” wondered Tailleach.  
“Up to no good, certainly,” leered the human, prodding Laila with his overly large sword. Then, as if to prove a point, he lifted his sword.  
Laila braced himself, glaring his opponent in the eyes, unafraid.  
“No!” screamed Tailleach.  
The sword paused mid-swing. All heads turned to Tailleach as he urged his horse through the group. He drew it to a stop beside Laila and before the human.  
“He is wounded!” decried the elf prince.  
The humans ogled him. “Are you mad?” asked the human's leader. “This is an uruk-hai! They were trying to slaughter you!”  
“A thing I do not doubt!” snapped Tailleach. “But he is wounded and defenseless now! Are you so cruel as to murder him?”  
“He is an orc!” barked back the human.  
“And aren't we better than them?” demanded Tailleach. “Or do you merely slaughter for the pleasure of it?”  
The human scowled and lowered his sword.  
“Besides, we do not know why they are here. If we were to interrogate him instead of murdering, we might know what they are planning!” insisted Tailleach.  
The human took a deep breath. Then, breathing noisily done with, he put on a smile. “Very well, prince,” he sneered. “You may have your hostage. But the rest,” and here he made a face “Are unfortunately very wounded. Mercifully, we will put them out of their misery.”  
The prince's face fell in outrage. The human nodded to his soldiers, who drew their swords. Laila seized the moment and flung himself forward, determined to defend his kin to the bitter end-  
Whump. The prince's silver boot collided with the side of Laila's head. Laila saw stars. The world swam. He staggered, turning to face the elf.  
There was laughter from the humans. Laila snarled, and saw fear flash in the prince's eyes. With a roar he plunged forward – and received another sound kick to the head.  
This time, he saw black.


End file.
